


Someone Stays Behind

by joufancyhuh



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Past HoF/Alistair, Unhappy Ending, Warden Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Not all stories start with death. But ours did. The Hero of Ferelden. The Divine. All little moments to bring us to where we stand right now, deaths that shaped us into who we are as a person... and who we get the chance to love.





	Someone Stays Behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nlans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nlans/gifts), [tempered_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/gifts).



> Thank you to barbex for betaing!

“Stay strong,” Alistair says with a lingering squeeze of her hand. A kiss lands on the down-turned corners of Evelyn’s mouth, fleeting before she gets the chance to deepen it, to leave him with the very breath of her lungs -- to remember her by, to keep him safe; a kiss like a spell to return him. 

He steps away with that boyish grin on his lips, a hard resolution set in his golden eyes of what he refuses to promise her. Her own fear reflects there in his drawn sword, the shined blade mirroring the horrified expression on her face. She wants to remain by his side, two are better than one, but Cole tugs on her arm, toward the rift that leads out. Back into the world, now devoid of her sandy-haired lover who shoots her one last look as he tightens his grip on his weapons. 

“Go, now!”

“This is where he wants to be,” Cole urges, and she knows it true. Together in the Fade with the woman who had him first, he leaves her to take his place by the side of his beloved, not her, never quite her. 

Her love sticks in her throat, aching to be let out but she swallows it back down into her chest, beneath the cage of bones. Her mother once said she loved too often, too easy, and that bodies birthed cages for a reason, to keep hearts from flying away on idle fantasies. Instead, her mouth tastes of blood from the wings she ripped off to hold it in place. 

_ In death, sacrifice… _

She recites the Warden motto as she allows herself to be pulled forward, out of harm’s way, back into the world that feels so much emptier than before. 

* * *

 

_ Days before…. _

 

From Griffon Wing Keep, Adamant lies dormant; a snake waiting in tall grass to strike. Tomorrow, the Inquisition forces lay siege to its walls, to stomp out the Venatori presence and rescue whatever Grey Wardens wish to be saved from their mad Commander. But tonight, Evelyn draws her shawl close, hiding a shiver that originates at the base of her spine as she gazes out into the consuming darkness of the Approach. 

Alistair steps to her side, hands clasped behind his back. “The fortress gives me the creeps, too.” His grin falters as his eyes sweep out across the twisting sands, ending where her own eyes did, on the dark shadow of Adamant. 

“Does it bother you, that we’re fighting the members of your Order?” With one last look into the darkness, she turns away, toward the light where the man in front of her gleams like a beacon in the chilled night air. A step closer, her hand drawing up the inside of his arm, across his shoulder and around to the other side of his neck. It’s a cue, him moving forward to capture her lips between his own. But it ends all too soon, though he stays close to her, absentmindedly reaching up to tuck her dark hair behind one ear.

Tonight, he seems different, his mind not present with her. She blames the travel to the Approach, the trip leaving her weary enough, the difference in temperature from day to night so drastic that she, too, might feel off if not for him. “Alistair?” Her other hand skims the side of his face to bring his attention back to her. 

He shakes it off, whatever it is, and a real, genuine smile brightens his face as he leans back in for another kiss. A new shiver begins as he deepens it, her back hitting one of the stone pillars on the walkway. 

It’s when they’re laying in her tent later that he tells her that the Calling is stronger in the Approach. She runs her fingers through his hair as a means to soothe him; he grips her waist tighter in response.

* * *

 

 

_ Weeks before... _

 

The fire dies down as members of her team head to their tents, ready to sleep for the night. Tomorrow, they continue on with their trek to Skyhold to decide the next move in regards to what they discovered in the Western Approach. Only Alistair remains awake, poking at the embers with a stick while staring into them. Evelyn catches sight of this when she leaves out her tent to tend to her full bladder, and when she returns, she decides to sit next to him. 

“So how come you’re not crazy like the rest of the Wardens?” 

Alistair chuckles, setting aside his stick and shifting positions to sit crosslegged. “Do you want a real answer or a funny one?”

She shrugs. “Why not both?” 

“Cause cheese protects from blood magic mind control, which means I’m safe as long as I keep eating it.” From his pack, he extracts a brown cloth, which reveals to be a sizeable chunk of gouda. When he offers her a taste, she breaks a piece off and nibbles on the corner, a hum of appreciation in her throat for the sweet caramel taste. He munches on his own piece until they both finish it off. 

Sitting there, only the two of them, she likes it, how at ease she feels when she’s with him. She thanks him before coming back to their conversation. “And your real answer?”

“And here I thought you might forget that.” 

She knocks her shoulder into his, laughing as she does. “Not even cheese can distract me, though it’s a valiant effort on your part.” 

“Then you’re a stronger person than me. I once let-”

“Alistair,” she cuts in, knowing that he once again attempts to lead the conversation astray. Her tone hints at her impatience. He owes her no honesty, they don’t know each other like that, though she finds herself at times wishing for that to change. He’s handsome enough, and his amiable nature leaves her at ease, a rare thing during these troubled times. 

He sighs, returning the crumbless cloth to his pack. “You’re persistent.” 

“My mother called it  _ obstinate _ .” Her knees draw up to her chest so that her chin rests on her kneecap. “Why are you different? It’s not in a bad way, but you are. Different, that is.” Different in how she thinks of him when she goes into her tent alone at night, in how her pulse flutters when she catches his golden eyes on her. 

Picking up the stick, he goes back to poking the coals. “I’ve seen what happens when people follow bad orders. It tends to get messy, bloody even.” His eyes glaze over with the red of the dying fire, lost in memory. She wonders what he sees there, what memory he recalls that sets those hard lines on his face. She finds herself wishing for his smile to return, to erase whatever bad visions hold him hostage. 

Her knees push into the dirt as she half-rises, granting her enough movement to lean over to where he sits. Her hands anchor on his shoulders, preventing her from falling as she knee-walks close enough to cut off the embers’ reflection. Instead, when he glances up at her face, she sees only a shadow of herself there, and an acceptance of what is to follow, like an inevitability. She closes the distance between their lips as the last of the fire dies out. 

* * *

 

_ Months before... _

 

Everything feels damp in Crestwood, including the cavern where Alistair hides himself from the Grey Wardens. Evelyn catches the man’s eyes on her as she explores the area, reading over his reports and skimming through the books Hawke’s contact brought with him. She didn’t expect a legend such as Alistair Theirin to be Hawke’s mystery contact, but then again, she should know better than to be surprised by anything Hawke does. 

Cole appears by her side. “Hair smells of lilacs, smile untainted by blood. They carry themselves the same - how can she be here? But not her, no, I watched her die.” Cole disappears, only to show up on her other side. “Forever, she promised. But not forever. Green eyes glaring, glistening, gone.” 

“That’s enough, Cole. Let Alistair keep his thoughts private.” Heat crawls up her neck, creeping into her cheeks. The intimate thoughts Cole shared scratch beneath her skin. It explains the staring, the gruff nature of the Grey Warden, but she wishes she didn’t know. Some thoughts should remain secret.

Evelyn’s green eyes connect with Alistair’s once again, and this time, she offers him a smile which he returns with some reluctance. His brow furrows, lips tugging into a tight press. She ignores his response, her grin widening, almost laughing to herself as he struggles over how to respond to her friendly nature. But then the hard line of his solemn expression cracks as the corners of his lips turn up, the smile slow in its spread across his face. His golden eyes reflect the light of the torches, blazing in the dreariness of the cavern. 

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw the request for Alistair/Trevelyan, a couple I never thought about before, I was stuck with the image of Trevelyan leaving him behind in the Fade. And then I became obsessed with the idea of that being the opening image, of the fic itself working backwards. 
> 
> I never considered this ship before, so thank you for requesting it. I don't know why it jumped out at me, especially when I'm not fond or good at writing Alistair, but here we are. 
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
